


Lia, I Love Thee

by LicieOIC



Series: Alternate Universe Doctor Who Prompted Fic [7]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), Doctor Who RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Costume Kink, Dry Humping, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Light Dom/sub, Oral Sex, Possessive Sex, RPF, Renaissance Faires, Roleplay, Semi-Public Sex, Shakespearean Sonnets, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-19 07:10:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1460425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LicieOIC/pseuds/LicieOIC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in the universe of "Lia My Love" by Vannadear, where David never changed his last name from McDonald and Billie's parents never changed her first name from Lianne. An alternate universe story where Dave and Lia meet at a Renaissance Faire and their continued adventures on the set of Doctor Who.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In which Dave and Lia Meet at a Renaissance Faire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tkross](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tkross/gifts), [lunarsilverwolfstar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunarsilverwolfstar/gifts).



> This was prompted to me by tkross, who asked for a David x Billie story, but I figured if it was going to be AU anyway, I might as well ask if I could have some fun in an existing RPF AU. I like the Lia/Dave universe because it's guilt-free RPF. Thank you so much to Vanna, for allowing me to play in her sandbox. You can find more information about the "Lia My Love" universe at Vannadear's Tumblr: http://vannadear.tumblr.com/tagged/Dave-x-Lia/chrono

It was Lianne Piper’s final summer. She’d just graduated and these were to be her final few months of freedom. Her friends thought she was crazy to give up her weekends to dress-up and perform at the local Renaissance Faire, but her drama teacher had recommended it highly. He’d said it would strengthen her improvisation skills, her grasp on Elizabethan language, as well as be a useful learning experience.

Truth be told, she was excited when she picked up her costume and assignment the weekend before it would all start. She’d borrowed camping equipment from a friend’s family so that she could stay Saturday nights on-site, it seemed like it would be quite the adventure!

The people who did this regularly seemed, at first, like a bunch of nutters, but Lianne quickly found that they were the good kind of nutters, much like the people she met in theater. Tightly knit, but welcoming of newcomers, with a fair share of attention seekers and drama queens. Unlike theater, however, there were a good deal more straight blokes to catch the eye. She particularly liked watching the fighters and jousters, who were quite fit.

Being the newest, and youngest, washer-woman meant that she was volunteered for things regularly. She didn’t mind, it was all in good fun, except for when she had to kiss Shakespeare at the conclusion of the poetry contest.

Because of the film that had come out a couple of years ago, the faire had started employing a ‘young’ Shakespeare, which was popular with the female faire-goers. But most of the actors hated him as he was incredibly arrogant and pompous, thought he knew everything about Shakespeare and acting, and generally believed himself to be God’s gift to the faire, if not, the world.

The ‘contest’ was held at the same time each day in front of the well where the washer-women performed. The rousters would encourage men from the audience to come and make up a love poem. Lianne was made to stand on a bucket as ‘muse’ and would give a kiss to the winner. There was always good deal of laughter and taking the mickey out of the contestants, which was easy, since most of them had been drinking ale and mead all day. And then Shakespeare would step up and recite a sonnet to win the contest and it was always either ‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?’ or, less often, ‘Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments.’ Lianne had to force herself not to roll her eyes. How predictable. But she wasn’t allowed to tell him that his performance doth suck o’rly much.

It was on the second weekend on Sunday, after Shakespeare had recited the same sonnet yet again, when a young man’s voice rang out from the back of the crowd, “Tell me a love poesy of fever and death!”

The audience laughed as Shakespeare frowned. Lianne squinted and stood on her toes. Even from the top of the bucket, she couldn’t tell who’d issued the amusing challenge.

“Nay, good sir,” said Shakespeare, trying to keep it light. “There be not a wordsmith alive who could give voice to such a thing. And thus, I claim my prize!”

Lianne kissed his cheek, batting her eyelids in an exaggerated fashion for the people who snapped pictures. As the audience dispersed, she looked around to see if the person who’d irked Shakespeare had stayed, but no one did.

Turning to one of the other washer-women, she asked, in character (because she had to while in front of the faire-goers), “Did’st thou see who challenged young Master Shakespeare?”

“Nay not, dearie,” she said, to Lianne’s disappointment. She asked around the tents in the backstage area after the faire shut down for the weekend, but no one knew who’d done it, or else they weren’t saying.

However, the following Saturday, the same thing happened. Shakespeare gave the same sonnet, and a man challenged him from the back of the crowd. Clearly annoyed as the gathered crowd laughed, the actor raised his hand for quiet.

“I must know,” said Shakespeare. “What is the visage of one who believes there to be such a thing as a love poesy of fever and death?”

The crowd parted enough to reveal a young Scotsman at the back of the group, leaning on a polearm, a red kilt draped about his slim hips, leather armor slung over a flowing cream-colored shirt. His face was sprinkled with freckles, probably due to being out in the sun. A cheeky smirk brightened his dark eyes, and he had some really great hair, brown with a touch of ginger in the light, carelessly tousled.

Shakespeare put his hands upon his hips. “And who art thou?”

“Alexander McDonald,” he said, his Scottish burr a bit more evident now that he didn’t have a crowd of people around him. _“Sir_ Alex, if thou prefers,” he emphasized, with a little twitch of his left eyebrow.

“Well, then, Sir Knight,” Shakespeare mockingly pronounced. “Go on, and tell us a love poesy of fever and death!”

The young man stepped forward, carefully carrying his weapon through the audience, his eyes on Lianne as he smoothly recited, “My love is as a fever longing still, for that which longer nurseth the disease; feeding on that which doth preserve the ill, the uncertain sickly appetite to please.” Here, he turned to the people, beseeching them to understand his plight. “My reason, the physician to my love, angry that his prescriptions are not kept, hath left me, and I desperate now approve desire is death,” he handled the polearm, holding it to his throat as though he would fall on it, “which physic did except.” He put the weapon away from him with a sigh as he said, despondently, “Past cure I am, now Reason is past care,” he raked his free hand through his hair, making it stand on end, “and frantic-mad with evermore unrest; my thoughts and my discourse as madmen's are, at random from the truth vainly expressed.” And then, he turned to look at Shakespeare, his expression cold, his eyes hard. “For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright, who art as black as hell, as dark as night.”

Shakespeare stood with his mouth slightly open as the audience and the washer-women, Lianne included, all clapped for his performance. It was some of the most earnestly recited verse she’d ever heard, the man truly had a gift for acting.

“Who did’st write that?” asked Shakespeare in an awed voice.

Deadpan, Sir Alex replied, “Thou did’st.”

The actor’s face turned bright red, realizing he’d been well and truly beaten by someone who actually knew Shakespeare’s works. “Well, Sir,” he stuttered. “Methinks it is plain that thou hast won the contest.”

The knight gave a modest smile, shaking his head and holding up his hand. “Nay, nay, I-- I bested thee with thy own sword,” he said, his eyes on the ground as he avoided looking at Lianne.

She smiled, liking him even more. “Come, come, good Sir Knight,” she said. “The victor must have his prize.” Stepping off the bucket, she hurried to him before he could escape the ring of people and cupped his face in her hands, bringing his lips to hers in a sweet, chaste kiss.

This time it was the knight’s face who turned red, making his freckles stand out in stark relief.

Later that night, after she’d changed into her ‘street clothes,’ Lianne found her way over to the group of tents where the Scottish clan were holed up. Approaching one of the men standing with a red plastic cup near the camp fire, she asked, hopefully, “Excuse me, I’m looking for... Sir Alex?”

“Ah,” the man nodded his understanding and shouted over his shoulder, “Oi! Dave!”

The flap on one of the tents swept up and the man who’d recited the brilliant sonnet stepped out. He looked so... normal, in his jeans and t-shirt, so different from the kilt-wearing clansman. He paused when he caught sight of Lianne and she thought, in the firelight, his cheeks were a bit pink.

She walked over to him. “So... Dave?”

“Ehm, yeah,” he said, pulling on his left ear. “Alexander’s my father’s name. Sir Dave just doesn’t sound very, you know, renaissance.”

She giggled. “Good point. But you’re still a McDonald? You don’t have, I don’t know, a last name just for faire, too?”

“Well, we have a saying in our clan,” he said, allowing his Scottish accent to thicken as he rocked back on his heels. “If you put your hand up a Scotsman’s kilt and he’s got a quarter-pounder, he’s a McDonald.” She burst out laughing and he grinned, broadly. “Oh, good. You were either going to laugh at that or slap my face off, I’m glad you picked laughing.”

Wiping an errant tear from her cheek, she smiled. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Dave McDonald. I’m Lianne Piper. Real name and faire name, I’m just lucky.” He took her hand and gallantly bowed over it. “I wanted to thank you for earlier.”

He shrugged. “Ah, Cliff’s been Shakespeare for a couple years now and it’s always the same schtick with him. Reckoned it was time someone showed him there’s more to the bard than two sonnets. Plus, he’s a bit of a git.”

“I noticed, which is why I was glad I didn’t have to kiss him today.”

“Ehm, right,” he said, looking at the ground again, but he was still smiling. “Sorry about that.”

“I’m not,” she said, catching her tongue in the corner of her smile. “If you’ll remember, I volunteered.”

He looked back up and she saw how ridiculously long his eyelashes were. “I do seem to recall something of that nature, yes.” He tilted his head away from the camp. “D’you want to... maybe... take a walk?”

“Sure.”

They walked along for a few minutes between the tents, catching random snippets of conversation mixed with raucous laughter from drunken friends.

“Can I tell you a secret?” she asked at length.

“If you like.”

“I think you’re a brilliant actor. I’d love to see you do Shakespeare on stage sometime, you were really just... amazing.”

He grinned. “Thanks. I recently did ‘Comedy of Errors’ with the RSC.”

“That must have been amazing!” she said, enthusiastically. “You’ll have to tell me if you do another.”

“I will. I’m hoping they’ll let me do Romeo, I want to play him before I get too old.” The silence between them returned for a minute, then he said. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Sure.”

“I wanted to kiss you.”

* * *

The next faire day, Dave, or Sir Alex, rather, approached the well in full armor, carrying his helmet under one arm. He extended one hand to Lianne and, projecting his voice, said, “Lia, my love, I go to the joust. Wilt thou bless me with a favor, that I might fly under the safety of my lady’s colors?”

Seeing a few people stop to watch them, Lianne pretended to consider. “I know not of whom thou speakest, good sir knight,” she said. “Who is this ‘Lia?’ For I am called ‘Lianne’ by those who call me.”

“Tis but my name for thee,” he said, a warm tenderness in his dark eyes. “For who thou art to me, thou art to no one else.”

She smiled. “Then ‘Lia’ will grant thee a favor,” she said, untying a pink ribbon from her hair, “for I shall not be blamed shouldst thou lose.”

He placed his hand to his heart, feigning injury. “I am wounded! Hast thou no faith in me? Do I go now to fight while crippled by mine own love?”

She came around the well, approaching him, making a show of examining him closely. “I see no blood nor wound. Where lies thine injury, Sir Knight?”

“My injury durst not lie,” he said, playing on her words. “It is my heart thou hast pierced with thy silver tongue, dear lady.”

She took his hand and tied her ribbon about his wrist. “Why, then, take mine and hold it in good stead, for truly, it was always thine.”

He smiled down at her. “Lia, my love… Wilt thou bless me with a kiss?”

She tucked her tongue into the corner of her smile. “Thou mayest depend upon it… If thou wins.”

Lianne made sure to watch the joust that afternoon. When Sir Alex rode to the rail separating the stands from the field on his magnificent black horse and presented her with the ‘golden’ arrow the queen had given him, she was sure she’d never see the end of his smug smile. So, she stood on the middle rail and leaned up as he leaned down, giving him a kiss to wipe it off. The cat calls from the audience made them both blush, but they only had eyes for each other.

  
* * *

 

That night, they laid side by side in Dave’s tent, talking about acting and the various shows they’d been in. She was fascinated by his artistic process and loved listening to him talk with that sexy accent. It wasn’t until they were awakened by people outside, getting ready for the morning, that they realized they’d fallen asleep, fully dressed, with their arms around each other.

They sat up. Lianne dragged her hands through her hair, certain she looked a mess, as Dave pulled on his ear and rubbed the back of his neck, looking at everything but her.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered. “Ehm, sorry, I-- I didn’t mean for that to happen. I was going to wake you, but then-- I guess I fell asleep, too.”

“Dave,” she said, before he could babble further, “it’s all right.”

He glanced at her. “Yeah?”

She smiled. “Yeah.” She bit her lip, looking down, shyly. “It was fun. I… I liked it.”

He slowly smiled back. “Lia… Do you want to, maybe… see each other sometime during the week?”

She leaned forward and placed a closed-mouth kiss on his lips, since she hadn’t had a chance to brush her teeth yet. “I love it when you call me Lia.” She paused. “That’s a yes, by the way.”

He grinned, his whole face lighting up. “Brilliant.”

* * *

One thing Lianne found out over the course of that month was that in acting, Dave was fearless and amazing, but in real life, he was actually quite shy and uncertain. It was both endearing and incredibly frustrating. When they were together, he never failed to hold her hand or put his arm around her, he was quite tactile and she liked that a lot. But she had to instigate every kiss between them and he’d always find some excuse to dash off whenever things got too intense.

It was adorable, really, he was such a gentleman, but it was starting to make her wonder. Faire would be ending soon. Did he still want to keep seeing her when it was over? Was he keeping her at something of a distance so it would be easier to say goodbye?

They were going to see a production of _Hamlet_ that evening. She resolved to ask him afterward, because she wasn’t going to let herself fall any further without knowing if she was alone in the fall.

* * *

They sat in his car afterward outside her home, talking about the show and Lianne delaying the moment when she’d have to go inside. She was still trying to work up the nerve to ask him what she really wanted to.

“I think you would have made a much better Hamlet,” she told him.

“Aw,” he said, ducking his head modestly. “And would you be my Ophelia?”

She scrunched up her nose, thinking about it. “Honestly, I think I’d rather be Horatio.”

He blinked. “Horatio?” he asked in surprise, his voice going higher.

“Well, he’s the only one in the play who Hamlet really treats decently, and the role isn’t gender specific,” she said.

Dave tilted his head, pursing his lips slightly as he considered it. “I guess you’re right.” He smiled at her, charmingly. “So, then, maybe you could be the Juliet to my Romeo?”

“Too much death,” she said. At his put-out expression, she realized that he was trying to be romantic and giggled. “I’d much rather be the Beatrice to your Benedick.” His smile came back at that. “Of course, with my luck, they’ll cast me as Hero.” She sighed over-dramatically, rolling her eyes. “I have the soul of a character actress and the face of an ingenue.”

“We’ll just have to produce our own version then, when we’re rich and famous,” he said, grinning.

“Til then, we’ll just have to settle for our own romantic story?” she asked, looking up at him through her eyelashes.

“Ehm… right,” he said. Even in the dim light from the nearby streetlamp, she could tell he was blushing.

Time for the moment of truth, she decided. It was now or never. “Dave,” she began slowly, “Faire’s going to be done soon… What, um… What are your plans for after?”

“Ohh,” he sighed. “Back to work, I suppose. Got a few things lined up for the rest of this year.”

“Good, that’s good,” she said, nodding. “And, um… Do you… I mean, am I…” She sighed, putting a hand briefly to her forehead. “Why is this so hard?”

He took her other hand in his. “Lia, my love,” he said, in that way of his that always made her insides melt. “What is it?”

“I’m trying not to say the five deadly words.” At his confused look, she counted them off on her fingers, “‘Where is this relationship going?’”

His eyes widened slightly. “Oh,” he said, a wealth of knowledge in that single syllable.

“I mean… if you even consider _this_ a relationship,” she added.

“What? Of course I do!” he exclaimed. “Why would you ever think--”

“Dave, it’s not that I don’t appreciate chivalry, but you’ve never made a move on me, not once, in all this time,” she said. “What was I supposed to think? I mean, I know I’m younger than you, the age difference doesn’t matter to me, but I thought maybe it did to you...”

He hung his head on a soft chuckle, then looked up, smiling, “Lia, my father is the head of a church, I was trying to show you that I _respect_ you.”

“I know I’m respected!” she said. “I’m well aware that I’m respected, and,” she said, more seriously, “ _thank_ you for that. Really. It means a lot that you would do that. But now I need to know if you _fancy_ me.”

The tips of his ears turned red as he murmured, “Truthfully, I’m surprised you haven’t noticed by now that I’m always walking around, half-hard, when I’m with you. I thought it was obvious that I fancied you.”

It was her turn to blush, then. “I just thought you were… you know, _bigger_. McDonald quarter-pounder and all that,” she said with a soft giggle.

“You never did put your hand up my kilt to check,” he said in a low voice, around a smile.

She bit her lip, then threw caution to the wind and reached across the gear shift to trail her hand over the seam of his jeans. He sucked in a fast breath as she cupped him through the material, feeling him go from half-mast to full in the space of a few seconds.

She grinned, caressing him and delighting in the little moan that escaped him. “Yep,” she said. “You’re a McDonald, all right.”

He grimaced, the jeans becoming too constricting and he arched up from the driver’s seat to adjust himself. “You’re gonna need to go up soon,” he said, through gritted teeth. “Before I embarrass myself.”

Her gaze slid from him to the empty backseat of his car and back again. She smiled slyly as his eyes widened with understanding.

“Oh, no, no, no,” he said quickly. “In my car? Don’t you want-- Well, shouldn’t we at least be in a bed?” He groaned, his eyes falling shut, as she squeezed him lightly through his trousers. “Lia, please--”

“I’ve been wanting you all month,” she said. “And now that I know you want the same, you _really_ want to wait for a bed? Really?” She felt him pulse against her hand and suddenly, the backseat seemed like it was _much_ too far away.

With more grace than she thought she possessed, she climbed over the gear shift and settled on top of him, the short silver-gray dress she wore riding up her thighs. She undulated against his erection and it dragged against her clit through her little silky knickers perfectly.

“Oh, God,” he choked out as she moaned. His hand tangled in the hair at the back of her head, dragging her mouth to his, kissing her sloppily around their ragged breathing as she continued to move, rutting up against him in fast, jerky movements.

His other hand slid up her thigh and around to cup her bum underneath the skirt of her dress. He groaned again as he discovered she was wearing a little thong, leaving her arse mostly bare. He squeezed and caressed her, bringing his other hand down to cup the other side, gripping her, helping her to move, arching up into her in earnest.

Their words were halting, disjointed half-sentences, that they nonetheless understood. “Lia-- please, Lia--”

“Dave-- I’m-- please-- God--”

“Gonna--”

“Yes--!”

His head fell against the backrest of his seat as he groaned out his completion, Lianne muffled hers against the long column of his neck, her lips against the little mole that she loved. They sat there for a long moment, catching their breath, clinging to each other, her arms around his neck, his around her waist.

He shifted uncomfortably as he realized his pants were growing cold and sticky. She pulled back enough for them to look down and see the wet spot on the front of his jeans and on the bottom of her dress. When they looked back up at each other, they laughed at their red cheeks and at the fogged up windows of the car. It helped break through the mild embarrassment.

“Bed next time?” she asked, shyly.

He nodded and kissed her. “Yes, please.”


	2. Lia and Dave's continuing romance on the set of Doctor Who

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After the first chapter, I was really uncertain where to go with this, until I was convinced by the chat ladies that I should continue this as a UA (Universe Alteration) of the original AU. Many many thanks to everyone who helped with plot ideas, especially larxenethefirefly, lunarsilverwolfstar, and callistawolf. I love you all dearly!
> 
> The painting is of a manip I did, as a gift for vannadear, for allowing me the luxury of playing in her universe. Thank you!

Faire ended and they stayed together. Eventually, they even met each other’s families, which had wracked their nerves up to nuclear proportions, but had gone well all the same. Time to see each other grew precious as years started to pass, with both of their careers taking off. Still, they did their best to be there for one another as much as possible, like when Lianne came to the _Harry Potter_ premiere with Dave, wearing a Slytherin tie as an accessory. It was like being invited to an exclusive club, hanging around with all those ‘big name’ actors, the night was one for the scrapbooks. Proud of her for ‘geeking out’ with him, he put the tie to good use later, to their combined delight.

And then, Lianne landed the role of a lifetime on THE show. The show Dave was always being a nerd over and trying to get her into. Lianne didn’t really have an opinion about sci-fi, she didn’t really ‘get’ it. It didn’t stop her from saying yes. The Beeb was rebooting the longest running sci-fi show in history, how could she not want to be a part of that? She knew the writing would be good when she was told it was the same guy who did Dave’s _Casanova_ script. Good scripts, good part… all of the yes.

Except, once they started shooting, Dave was always begging her to put him on the guest list to come visit her. Not that she didn’t want to see him, because she did. The nights in Cardiff were long and cold and she missed him desperately, but she had a feeling that giving in would only result in the biggest fanboy explosion ever. She didn’t know how the crew and the rest of the cast would feel about that.

Still, she couldn’t put him off forever, he _knew_ she had no resistance to his big, brown eyes, and before long, Dave was visiting the set. They were working on the third episode. Everyone assured her that they didn’t mind, he was very respectful of the crew and never got in the way. While they were rolling, anyway. Between takes, he was bounding all over the set like a puppy on caffeine.

He considered it his unofficial 'job' to hold her anorak while she was on camera, to ‘keep it warm’ for her. She had to admit, snuggling into the puffy coat that was warm from his body and smelled of him was a very welcome thing on cold night shoots. She could only smile at his adorable face when he came forward, holding the nylon jacket open for her, “It’s all snuggly warm for you, my love!”

Things shifted a bit when Dave came back from getting coffee to find Lianne slow-dancing with Chris while he crooned “Close to You.” It was just something they did between takes to stay warm and amused, but when her eyes fell on Dave’s face, she froze. She’d seen him look that way before, but only when he was acting. The raw jealousy in his eyes shocked her.

He turned and set the cup of coffee on a plastic folding table, then stalked off in the direction of her trailer. Lianne’s heart thudded. Why was he so upset? As much as she wanted to go after him, they weren’t on an official break yet, she had to be on set. It was another thirty minutes before she could leave and go find him.

She ran to the trailer, having a bit of difficulty catching her breath in the stupid corset wardrobe had put her in. When she opened the door, he was sitting at the little table, just staring at it, his jacket draped over the side of the bench. His jaw was clenched, the angry dimples standing out in his cheeks.

“Dave, what--” She breathed hard, putting one hand to her stomach. How did women wear these things?

“Are you involved with him?” he asked, not waiting for her to finish her sentence.

“What?” she exclaimed in a high, breathless tone.

He stood up suddenly, coming towards her so fast, she instinctively took a step back. He sighed, holding up his hands. “Relax, you can’t breathe, and I’m not having this conversation with you at risk of passing out. Turn around.”

“Oh.” She turned and let him unlace the corset. She exhaled and inhaled gratefully as the stays came loose. His fingers gently stroked the curve of her spine through the laces and she shivered.

“You can tell me,” he said, his voice a little softer, which only emphasized how hurt he sounded. “I won’t-- Well, no, I _will_ be upset--”

“Chris and I are just friends, Dave,” she said, turning back around to face him, holding the corset to her chest. “What made you think there was anything going on between me and him?”

“You were doing that smile,” he said. “The flirty one.” He brought his hand up and ran his fingers along her jaw. “The one that I fell for. The one I _still_ fall for.”

She sighed. “That’s just _me_ , Dave. I flirt, you know this, it’s something I do. I mean, you’ve seen how bad it gets when I get drunk,” she said with a grin. “Rose smiles at the Doctor that way, too, you know.”

“I guess… I was already jealous, because you landed this job, and then I saw you together...” He blew out a breath. “I wanted it to be just mine. That smile. Like ‘Lia.’ I’m the only one who gets to call you that.”

She trailed her hands up his shirt, fiddling with his buttons. “You’re the only one I smile at like that… and mean it.”

His eyes dropped to where her cleavage was becoming more apparent as the corset drooped, since she wasn’t holding onto it anymore. “It’s just my first visit… I didn’t know if you were… _close_ , like that, all the time or not…”

“We _are_ close,” she said, honestly. “We have great on-screen chemistry, but that’s all it is. I promise.” She reached up to cup his face in her hands, stroking his freckled cheeks with her thumbs. “You’re the only one for me.”

“Lia,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss her. His lips and tongue were insistent, his hands desperately clutching her closer to him. He pushed the loose corset down, enough for him to palm her breasts and lift them up to his eager mouth. She moaned as he sucked and gently bit at her nipples, rutting his growing erection against her through the burgundy skirt she wore. “Need you,” he said, roughly, his breath hot against her skin.

She put her hands against his chest and pushed until his bum hit the edge of the little table. With her lips at his throat, she reached between them and unbuckled his belt, making sure she left a deep red mark on his pulse point as she pushed his jeans down. Giving him a cheeky smile, she fluffed her skirt out and knelt down on the linoleum. She didn’t know when they wanted her back on set, so she pulled down his pants and took him in her mouth without teasing him, sucking and swiping her tongue along the underside to bring him to full hardness quickly.

He groaned, trailing his fingers through the carefully pulled-back hairstyle she’d been given early that morning. “God, you look so gorgeous,” he said, his accent sounding thicker in his hoarse tone. “I love seeing you in period clothes,” he paused, moaning, as he pulsed in her mouth. He put one hand on the table behind him, steadying himself when his knees felt wobbly. He had to swallow thickly before continuing, “Ever since I saw you at faire.”

She pulled back and grinned, catching her tongue in her teeth, something that Rose did on the show, but was really just one of Lianne’s habits. She stood up and started on the buttons of his shirt. “Would you care to move this to the bedroom, sir?” she asked in a light, posh accent. “My master will be expecting me back soon.”

Catching on to her game, Dave hurriedly toed out of his trainers and half-sat on the table to get out of the jeans and pants around his calves.

“Oi, don’t sit on that,” she whispered, breaking character. “I eat on that!”

“I wouldn’t need to if a certain servant girl hadn’t made me weak in the knees,” he said, prompting her to continue the role play.

She giggled and shoved the shirt off of his shoulders, then wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down for another kiss as she walked backwards, shuffling the two of them down the narrow hallway toward her tiny sleeping area. It was hard not to laugh as his feet kept stepping on the long skirt, making her stumble, but somehow, they made it back there.

Nudging her down, he encouraged her to sit on the edge of the single bed and knelt on the floor between her legs. He grabbed handfuls of the gauzy red material of the skirt, pulling it up, revealing her thoroughly modern knickers. When he hooked his fingers into the waistband, she lifted her bum up a little to help in getting out of them, and then reached for the corset to pull it over her head without undoing all the lacing.

“No, don’t,” he said, putting his hands over hers.

She grinned, amused at his apparent costume fetish. “As you wish, sir,” she said, in the posh accent.

He grabbed her around her thighs and pulled her to the very edge. She leaned on her elbows, letting her head fall back as he buried his tongue in her heat. Keeping her lips tightly shut, she smothered her moans as he quickly made her incoherent with his talented mouth. She had no idea who might be walking around her trailer or how soundproof the walls were. She couldn’t help but cry out, however, as he sucked at her clit and slid two fingers into her wetness.

She was more than ready, grabbing at his hair to try and pull him up. “Please, please,” she begged, breathlessly.

He batted her hands away. “Mmm-mmm,” he hummed in the negative and she groaned at the vibrations. He pumped his fingers slowly, lifting his head up enough to say, “Tell me you’re mine, Lia.”

She whimpered as his breath ghosted along her clit. “I’m yours,” she said, obediently. “Please?”

“All mine?” he pressed, arching his fingers into her sweet spot and she cried out again.

“Yes!” she exclaimed. “I’m all yours, Dave, _please_! Now!”

He chuckled as he rocked back on his heels and removed his fingers from her, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You give a lot of orders for a servant girl,” he said, getting to his feet.

She pouted and lowered her gaze, but she was staring directly at his cock, standing up, hard and proud. “I’m so sorry, sir,” she said, batting her eyelashes. “I’m just so eager to have you.”

The corner of his mouth twitched as he idly stroked himself. “Are you now?” he teased. “And you’ll do whatever I say?” She lifted an eyebrow at him, and he mirrored the expression in challenge.

“Yes,” she said. “What would you ask of me, sir?”

He smiled, his eyes dark and hooded. “Get up,” he said, taking a step back and ducking quickly into her little bathroom for something. She was on her feet by the time he came back. “Turn around,” he said and when she did, he took both of her hands in his and put them together behind her. He wrapped one of her large hair ties around her wrists, binding them loosely.

She didn’t think their little role playing scene would lead here, she hadn’t expected this from him and was understandably surprised. They’d shagged a lot over the years, obviously, but even in the rougher moments, he’d never said anything about restraining her. Then again, he’d never been jealous before, so she didn’t protest. This was about him being possessive, and it thrilled her a little bit, to know that she’d spurred him into this through jealousy. She wanted to see what he would do next.

He put his hands on her shoulders and walked her back out into the main part of the trailer, making her face the table. His voice was smug when he leaned forward, his lips at her ear, “Bend over.”

Resisting the urge to purse her lips in annoyance, she was trying to stay in character after all, she bent at the waist until she was resting her torso on the table. Her head was turned, her cheek resting on the cool laminate, and she could just see him out of the corner of her eye, lifting the skirt again and letting the fabric gather on her back.

She moaned as he teased her entrance with his cock. She was still so wet for him, she needed him filling her, hard and fast, but he kept one hand on the small of her back, keeping her from moving backward onto him.

“Is this what you want?” he asked, nudging her clit with his tip, and by then, she was too desperate for him to be irritated by his tone.

“Yes, please!” she begged.

“And only mine, yes?” he said, a hard edge to his voice.

“God, yes, only yours, only your cock, please, I need it--” She called out, loudly, as he suddenly surged into her, buried to the hilt, fucking her hard in a punishing rhythm. “YES!” she shouted, her breasts dragging against the corset underneath her, too loose to follow her movements. Filth poured from her lips, utterly forgetting where they were as pleasure rippled through her. “UNGH, FUCK, DAVE, GOD, YES!”

“My Lia,” he grunted, grabbing her hips tightly. With one foot, he pushed her feet together, groaning deeply at the added tightness. “Lia, _my_ love!”

“Oh, fuck, yes!” she cried, bouncing on her toes to slam herself against him, encouraging him to take her harder. Her eyes fell shut and her mouth opened in a wordless shout as he reached around her hips to finger her clit.

Mind-shattering sensation flooded her and she froze for one glorious moment in the heavens, dragging in a breath and calling out for him as she fell. Her body jerked with every spasm of her inner muscles, and then he went still, deeply buried inside her, her name ripped from his throat, and she felt him coming, his cock twitching inside her on each hot spurt. He exhaled, long and slow, as he leaned heavily on her back, his breath stirring her slightly mussed hair. Her hands were trapped between them, and she wiggled her fingers to remind him.

He got up almost at once, pulling out of her and removing the hair tie. As she straightened and turned around, the skirt swishing down her legs, he took her hands in his, frowning at the deep red line on her wrists. He kissed each of them, lovingly, rubbing the area gently with his fingers.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, the serious look on his face melting any twinge of discomfort she felt from the elastic.

He grasped the bottom of the corset then and pulled it over her head, setting it on the table. Likewise, she found the side-zip of the skirt and he helped her out of it, draping it over his jacket. Then he took her hand and led her back into the sleeping area.

There was only enough room for them both to lie down if she curled up on her side and half-lay on his chest, but that was more than fine with them. He cuddled her close, pressing kisses to her hair and temple.

“Was this… okay?” he asked, sounding so tentative, she almost giggled.

“Yes,” she said, smiling, then clarified, “Not as an everyday thing, mind.”

“Oh, no, no, no,” he said at once, shaking his head.

“But you _are_ pretty sexy when you’re all possessive,” she said, trailing a finger across his lips. “Maybe I should flirt around you more often.” He growled and nipped at her finger and she did giggle then.

“My Lia,” he said, fiercely emphasizing ‘my’ as he tugged her closer.

“You do know I would never do that to you, right?” she asked, softly. “I would never go behind your back.”

“Yeah, ‘course I do,” he said, nuzzling her nose with his own. “I think I just went a bit mad.”

“Occasionally going mad is okay,” she said. “As long as you know the rest of the time. I’m just yours. Who I am to you, I am to no one else.”

He smiled. “You remembered!”

“Of course,” she said. “It was one of the most romantic moments of my young life. The grand knight pitching woo to the poor washing girl.”

His eyes were liquid with emotion. “I love you, Lia.”

She gently kissed him. “I love you, too,” she said against his lips before pulling back to glare at him. “But I am _so_ going to get you for doing that at my breakfast table.”

But his expression was uncaring as he just beamed at her. “You’ll just remember what we did there whenever you eat at it.” He inclined his head, kissing her neck, then murmuring into her ear in a low voice, “I hope it makes you wet every single time.”

She shivered and blushed, knowing he was probably right.

* * *

Dave soon became a fixture on set, whenever he didn’t have work of his own. When he saw Russell or Julie, he pestered them about getting a part on the show. “Just a little one? As an extra? I don’t even have to have lines!”

They would always put him off and not-so-subtly grab Lianne and ask her to ‘do something’ about Dave. One of the biggest secrets Lia had to keep that year was Russell’s plan to ask Dave to be the next Doctor. Chris was leaving at the end of the season, so a new actor was needed. After their work together on _Casanova_ , the writer knew Dave would bring a lively spirit to the character, combined with the fact that he utterly loved the show and had wanted to be the Doctor ever since he could talk.

The three of them planned it out meticulously, thinking Dave deserved a bit of teasing after all the poking and prodding for a part. Since Lianne knew she couldn’t completely keep it a secret, Dave would know right away that she was hiding something, she went ahead and let him believe she knew who the next Doctor was going to be, but she kept telling him she wasn’t allowed to say.

“Oh, come on,” he wheedled her. “Not even a teensy tiny little hint?”

She shrugged. “You know I have a confidentiality agreement, Dave,” she said, apologetically batting her eyelashes.

“Pfff, confidentiality agreement,” he scoffed. He slumped on the sofa in her trailer. “It’s someone I don’t like, is that it? That’s why you’re not telling me, because you’ve told me everything else.”

“You’ll find out soon, I promise,” she said.

“Just tell me I’m not going to be disappointed,” he begged.

She leaned over and kissed him. “That, I can tell you with absolute certainty.”

So, one day while they were working on the last episode of the season and Dave was pestering Russell yet again, Russell turned to him with a sigh. “You really want a part _that_ badly? Fine.” He pulled his mobile out of his pocket and dialed while Dave bounced on his toes, excitedly. “Julie? It’s Russell. Can we maybe find a part for Dave? Yeah, Lianne’s Dave. Just to get him off my back?” He hummed for a few moments while Julie talked on the other end, then Russell smiled at him. “I think we may have something for you.”

“Woo hoo!” Dave shouted, pumping his fist in the air. Turning around, his eyes sought Lia to tell her the good news. It didn’t matter what part it was, he was going to be on his favorite show! He saw her coming towards him from the direction of wardrobe and he ran over to meet her, taking her hands in his. “Lia! Russell and Julie said I can be on the show!”

She smiled broadly. “That’s great! I’m so excited for you!” She pulled one hand free and stuck it into the pocket of her magenta jacket, rummaging around for a second. “Well, you’re going to need this…”

His mouth dropped open as Lianne placed the, _THE_ , sonic screwdriver in his hand. He blinked a few times, but it was still there. When he looked up at her, the grin on her face told him everything.

“Oh, you little minx!”

Lianne shrieked as he chased her across the set, promising retribution, and Russell laughed, already pressing the button to call Julie back and tell her their new Doctor’s reaction. Dave chased Lianne into her trailer, where she caught him in her arms and kissed him passionately.

“Can this ‘retribution’ happen in the bed?” she asked, looking at him heatedly through her eyelashes.

“Oh, yes,” he breathed, giving her a look full of silken promise. He led the way to the back area of her trailer, but he never put the sonic down. She would tease him about it later, but he was far too happy to care.

* * *

When they’d completed shooting for Dave’s first episode, the one that would air on Christmas, Lianne found him in his trailer, taking footage of himself in his Doctor costume with the handheld camera the producers had given him. She grinned as he turned away from the full length mirror and pointed the lens at her.

“Look who it is! My beautiful co-star and amazing girlfriend, Lianne Piper!”

She waved at the camera. “Hello!”

He pressed the button to stop the recording and held his hands out to either side of himself. “So?” he asked, grinning. “I told Russell that I wanted a coat down to my ankle, but I didn’t know if I’d actually get it. Pretty smart, don’t you think?”

“You look wonderful,” she said, coming forward to wrap her arms around his waist. “Love the tight suit, you’re the most handsome Doctor yet.”

He preened a bit and beamed down at her. “I think you mean, ‘most handsome Doctor _ever_.’” He leaned over to set the camera on the table nearby so he could hold her properly. “I filmed some of the crew earlier. They were saying that our chemistry is even better than you and Chris.”

“Well, that goes without saying,” she said. “We’ve been together for years.”

“Russell said he’s going to use that to his advantage. He’s hinted at something big for the end of the season.” He waggled his eyebrows at her, suggestively.

“You mean, Rose and the Doctor might actually reveal what their relationship is?” Lianne asked with wide eyes.

“Maybeeee,” he sing-songed.

She smacked him in the arm. “Oh, you!” she said in exasperation. “You know something and you’re not telling!”

“I told you I’d get you back for keeping secrets from me!” he said.

“I hate you so much,” she said glaring.

“No, you don’t, you love me,” he said, leaning down to nuzzle her neck.

“Nope, you’re not getting out of trouble that easily,” she said, turning her face away.

He turned his lips to the sensitive spot below her ear, laving it with his tongue, then smiled as she stifled a moan. He knew exactly what buttons to push to get her to melt, and wasn’t above using that knowledge to make her forget her irritation with him.

“You know, I came in here to see if you wanted to grab dinner,” she said, her voice a tad breathless.

“I think I’d rather grab you,” he murmured against her skin, moving down to her collarbone and sliding kisses along the length of it. He moved the fabric of the gray hoodie she wore to the side with his nose, and she gasped lightly as he nipped her shoulder.

When he lifted his head, her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him to her in a hungry kiss. Inwardly smug, he pulled her closer, aligning their hips, letting her feel how hard he was becoming. She hummed her satisfaction and rubbed herself against him as their tongues stroked and played, enticing them to greater arousal. When she arched her back, he took the cue and cupped her breasts, brushing his thumbs over her tight nipples that he could feel even though her costume.

Costume. They were both still in costume. A thought occurred to him that hadn’t since he was a teenager, wearing the long, striped scarf his gran had made him, and fantasizing about a girl in school. He grabbed her hand and hurried them both to the other end of the trailer where his small sleeping area was. He shrugged out of the long, tan coat, but left everything else on. Lia had toed out of her trainers and was wiggling out of her jeans and knickers, but he pressed her down onto the bed before she could remove anything else.

“Dave,” she moaned appreciatively as he sank to his knees and pressed moist kisses along her thighs.

“Doctor,” he said, pulling her to the edge of the mattress.

“What?” she asked, lifting her head in surprise.

“Call me ‘Doctor,’” he said, slipping into the South London accent.

Lia burst out into a gale of giggles, her body falling limp on the bed as she clutched her stomach. “D-- D-- Doc-- tor!” she said, barely able to get the word out around her laughter.

He pouted, rather put out, but he supposed he should have guessed she might not go along with his nerdy fantasy. This role play was _much_ geekier than the last time they’d done it. Even so, her laughing was not doing wonders for his ardor. “Lia,” he said, trying not to whinge. “Do you mind not gigging when we’re having sex?”

Her mirth tapered off as she lifted herself up on her elbows and arched an eyebrow at him. “Who’s Lia?” she asked with a saucy grin. “My name’s _Rose_.”

His mouth fell open, then he narrowed his eyes at her. “Oh, you cheeky little tart,” he growled, surging forward and wrapping his lips around her clit, sucking the little bud hard.

She threw back her head and called out, “Doctor!” His cock twitched in response. Oh, hell, yes. Better than any fantasy, hands down.

He kept his tongue busy as he undid his pin-striped trousers and pulled his boxer briefs down far enough to free himself. He stroked a few times then got up and knelt at the edge of the mattress, sliding his cock along her glistening slit. She whimpered and bit her lip and he smiled wolfishly down at her. With one sure movement, he thrust inside.

She moaned and arched, clutching at his arms. “Oh, Doctor, you’re so much bigger in this new body!” she said with a wicked gleam in her eye.

“Just what _exactly_ are you trying to say, _Rose_?” he asked, pointedly. Yes, the role play was a bit silly, he supposed, but there was no need to go _there_. He shook his head at her, his dark expression telling her more than words that she would pay for making fun of him.

He set a punishing pace, fucking her hard while flicking her clit with the fingers of one hand. The small room was filled with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh and Lia-- ahem, _Rose_ \-- moaning and keening as he brought her to orgasm again and again.

He held himself back until she was begging him, almost nonsensically, “Please, Da-- Doctor, please, please come for me, I need it, I need to feel you come--” Then, he let himself go with a hoarse shout and he felt her clench around him one last time as he spilled himself inside of her.

With a heavy, drawn-out sigh, he fell down on top of her, his legs awkwardly sticking off the side of the bed, but it didn’t matter for a few minutes as he pressed sleepy kisses to her neck and cheek, anywhere he could reach. “Love you,” he mumbled, back in his own Scottish accent.

“Love you, too… _Doctor_ ,” she said, with another giggle.

“All right, all right,” he said, getting up on his hands in order to crawl off of her. “Maybe that was a little too out there. But ye cannae blame a lad for wanting to fulfill a boyhood fantasy.”

She smiled and cupped his face in her hands, bringing her lips to his the way she always did whenever he let his accent grow thick. She always maintained that she could listen to him read the phonebook. “It wasn’t so bad,” she admitted. “You _are_ really sexy in that costume. I just couldn’t resist teasing you.”

“Of course not.”

While he was fastening his trousers and Lia was pulling her jeans back on, they both startled as they heard the electric kettle ding. They looked at each other with wide eyes.

“Did you have the kettle on?” she asked.

“No,” he said.

They went back into the main part of the trailer to find Noel making himself a cuppa. “Hey, guys,” he said, as if it were the most normal thing ever.

“Noel, what the hell?” asked Lia, her face turning pink as she half-hid behind Dave, despite the fact that they were both fully dressed again.

“Thought you’d want to know, these walls are NOT sound-proof,” he said, lightly. “I came by to see if you wanted to hit the local and saw that some of the crew was giving you an audience. I advised them to disperse.” He shook a tea tin at them. “Thirsty?”

“Oh, my God!” said Lia, burying her face against Dave’s arm as he gaped at Noel, his own freckled cheeks turning bright red.

They definitely wouldn’t hear the end of it for a long time… Especially not after wardrobe found out.

* * *

Months later, when the episode aired, one of Dave’s Christmas presents from Lia was a light blue t-shirt that said ‘Trust Me, I’m A Doctor.’ He loved it, but was a bit dismayed when she pulled another shirt out of her cavern-like purse.

“I got it to match!” she said, smiling. It was a black shirt that said ‘You Never Forget Your First Doctor.’

He scooted over to her, pulling her close to his side, as he pouted. “But Liiiia… _I’m_ your Doctor, though, right? _Technically_ , I was your first!”

She rolled her eyes and kissed him in reassurance. She had no idea how he could be so insecure, even all these years later. He could have any woman he wanted, yet he stayed with her. Of course… he probably thought the reverse was true.

“Yes, Dave,” she said, soothingly, running her fingers through his hair the way she knew he loved. “You’re my Doctor and my knight in shining armour and my amazing actor and my incredibly sexy boyfriend, all rolled into one.” She kissed his nose. “Happy?”

“I love you, Lia.” The ‘for putting up with me’ didn’t need to be said.

She smiled at him. “Love you, too. Happy Christmas.” Reassuring Dave was never a hardship. She loved him, quirks and all.

* * *

It was barely ten minutes after the latest script had been delivered when Dave stormed into Russell’s office and slapped the stack of paper on his desk. “What the _hell_ is this load of bollocks?” he asked, just a few decibels below shouting.

Russell looked down at the script stamped ‘David McDonald’ across the front and read the title to himself, out of habit, ‘The Girl In The Fireplace.’ He peered up at his star through round glasses. Dave’s face was completely serious, if not a hair away from angry. He’d hoped he might have been joking, because something _really_ must have made him upset for Dave to come berate the showrunner.

“Something wrong, I take it?” Russell asked.

“I’ll say something’s wrong!” He grabbed the script and flipped a few pages, then turned it around to show Russell, jabbing a finger at some directions. “The idiot who wrote this has me kissing someone other than Rose!”

“Uh huh?”

Dave gave Russell a look that implied he was slow. “The Doctor would _never_ kiss anyone other than his love, even in an emergency! It’s completely out of character! And they don’t even talk about it!” He tossed the script back on the desk. “Like I said, a load of bollocks!”

“Steven did such a good job last season, I thought--”

“Russell, did you _read_ this script?” asked Dave. “He abandons Rose on an unknown spaceship! Knowing he wouldn’t be able to get back the same way, he just trusts that _something_ will work out, for a woman he’s barely spent the sum of an hour with!” He huffed. “And that’s _aside_ from the kissing, which absolutely won’t happen.”

Russell clamped his lips together and furrowed his brow as he thought about the problem. There _were_ some issues with the script that should have been addressed prior to it going out to the cast, but if Dave just outright refused to follow the direction, he couldn’t _make_ him, and he didn’t want this to be a big _thing_ …

“Well, what if,” he said, thinking out loud. “What if Madame de Pompadour was a ringer for Rose? Would you kiss her if she was played by Lia?”

Dave drew his eyebrows together as he tried to make sense of the concept in terms of the show. “What, like… the Doctor thought she was Rose, dressed up all fancy for him?”

Russell nodded, warming to the idea. “We could maybe make that work. Green screen the scenes with Rose and Reinette. I don’t think Lia would mind playing two parts.”

“They’d still have to have an on-camera reaction to what happened,” said Dave. “With what’s coming at the end of the season, the Doctor wouldn’t just let an indiscretion like that happen and then not apologize to Rose.”

Russell shushed him. “Spies are everywhere.” He got up from the desk and came around it to pat Dave on the back. “I’ll work more closely with Steven on this. I was really hoping for another script like ‘The Doctor Dances.’”

“Obviously, he’s peaked,” said Dave, derisively, then gave Russell a grateful look. “Thank you for taking my concerns seriously.”

“It’s not like you’re a divo, Dave,” said Russell. “Your thoughts are valid. Let me get back to you. Oh, and you might as well mention to the others that memorizing the script can wait.”

* * *

It worked out surprisingly well. They got the little girl who’d played young Rose in 'Father’s Day' to come back and play young Reinette. And although a lot of the problems in the script had been rewritten, it was obvious that Russell had had a heavy hand in it. Steven had respectfully been asked to step down as one of the writers after the episode was shot.

Dave loved seeing Lia in the fancy eighteenth century style court gowns she wore as Reinette. He was forced to admit he might have a thing for seeing her in period clothing after he whispered in her ear, “Don’t let on anything’s happening,” then crawled underneath the gown. To Lia’s great shock, he tormented her with his tongue as she stood in plain sight of whoever happened to walk by. The voluminous skirts hid everything from view. Well, everything but her reddened cheeks. She proved quite talented at holding in her moans, even as her legs trembled on either side of his face.

When he’d managed to make her come twice in rapid succession with his mouth and fingers (and she’d finally caught her breath), she informed him when no one was looking and he came out from under her. He smiled smugly, his face glistening with moisture. She grabbed a few tissues from the makeup table and handed them to him with a glare.

“I’m so going to get you back for that,” she said, tartly.

He waggled his eyebrows as he wiped his face dry. “Looking forward to it.”

The first big change to the script was the kissing scene that Dave had come to Russell over. Dave, as the Doctor, came around the pivoting fireplace to see Lia, as the grown-up Reinette, in a gorgeous sky blue silk gown.

“It’s you,” she said, surprised.

“Well, of course, it’s me,” he said, assuming her to be Rose. “But more importantly, how did you get over here? Was there another ‘magic door?’ Linked into another frame of time, so you would be here before me, oh, that could be bad, could cause a big paradox, that. Still, I’m quite liking the view.” He looked her over, waggling his eyebrows. “Did you get all dressed up just to impress me?”

“A moment!” she said, holding up a hand. “So many questions. So little time.” She came forward, pushing him up against the fireplace as she kissed him soundly, the Doctor joining in a moment later.

When she pulled away, his eyes stayed closed for a few seconds, his mouth hanging open. His expression was dazed when he looked at her again. “Wow… If you wanted a snog, Rose, you could have said so, you didn’t have to go through so much trouble…” He shook his head slightly. “Hang on, why are you speaking French?”

Her brow furrowed delicately. “Who is Rose?” Off-camera, a woman called for Reinette, and she answered, “Go to the carriage, mother, I’ll join you in a bit.”

The Doctor’s eyes widened. “R-Reinette,” he stuttered. “Well… Goodness, how you’ve grown.”

“And you do not appear to have aged a single day,” she said. “That is tremendously impolite of you.” She looked him over much the same way he had a moment before. “It is customary, I think, to have an imaginary friend only during one's childhood. You are to be congratulated on your persistence. You _seem_ to be flesh and blood, at any rate, but this is absurd. Reason tells me you cannot be real.”

“Oh, you never want to listen to reason,” he babbled, turning around to frantically fumble for the switch that would take him back to the space station. “Right, yes, sorry. Listen, lovely to catch up, but better be off, eh? Don't want your mother finding you up here with a strange man, do we? I mean, this is only the third time we’ve met, and Rassilon, you just snogged me!” He looked back at her as if he expected her to disappear and, with her, the problem she’d created. He carded his hands through his hair in agitation. “This is… so very not good!”

“Well,” said Reinette, looking insulted. “If that is the way you feel about it, Fireplace Man, I shall take my leave of you.”

She turned to go, just as a servant entered the room. “Mademoiselle Poisson, your mother grows impatient!”

“I am just going,” she said, sweeping out of the room, as the Doctor’s eyes bugged.

“Poisson?” he repeated. “Reinette Poisson? No! No, no, no, no, no... _Reinette Poisson?_ Later, Madame Etoiles? Later still, mistress of Louis the Fifteenth, uncrowned Queen of France? Actress, artist, musician, dancer, courtesan… gardener?” He groaned. “This is so much worse than I thought…”

“There is something the matter, monsieur?” the servant asked, eyeing the Doctor’s odd suit.

“I should say so,” he said in dismay. “I thought she was Rose, but she wasn’t, and now I’ve snogged Madame du Pompadour!”

In a later scene, when Rose and the Doctor finally met up again, as she and Mickey had classically wandered off, he ran up, yelling, “Rose!” and grabbed her, hugging her tightly. Then he pulled back, his expression serious, his eyebrows pulled down. “It is you, isn’t it? Properly you? Quick, what’s the first thing I ever said to you?”

“‘Run,’” she answered, looking perplexed. “Doctor, what’s gotten into you?”

He sighed in relief. “I need to talk to you.” He glanced over at Mickey and tilted his head in the direction he’d come from. “Erm… Mr. Mickey, I met a horse that was wandering around, mind putting him somewhere safe for me?”

“What's a horse doing on a spaceship?” the young man asked.

The Doctor gave him a Look. “Mickey, what's pre-Revolutionary France doing on a spaceship? Get a little perspective. Off you pop.”

Mickey lifted an eyebrow at him, but turned to see to the horse. Rose looked expectantly at the Doctor. “All right, what’s this about?” she asked.

He gestured at the large mirror she was standing next to, which showed a posh palace room. “See these?” he asked. Inside the room, a man in elegant dress with a long, curly wig walked in with two men. “Oh, look, the King of France! Anyway, these windows. They're all over the place. On every deck. Gateways to history. But not just any old history. Hers.” Rose and the Doctor watched as Reinette walked into the room and curtseyed before the King. Rose gasped, looking at the woman who looked so much like herself. “I can tell you spot the resemblance.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Well… Maybe a little. She’s much more posh.”

“Well, I think you’re prettier.”

Rose looked back at him, blinking in shock. “Wait, what?”

“Listen, Rose,” he said, taking her hands in his. “I made a big mistake. When I ran into her, I thought she was you, so I let her snog me and I snogged her back, but I didn’t know who she really was.”

“Doctor, you’re perfectly entitled to… snog… whomever you like,” Rose said, flustered.

“No, you don’t understand, I wouldn’t--”

“Oi!” came Mickey’s voice down the corridor. “I’m not gonna go around with only this horse to help me if one of them robots turns up!”

The Doctor sighed. “We’d better go help him.” He tugged Rose by the hand to find where Mickey had gone off to, but she pulled him back, pointing at the window.

“Hang on, tell me who she is. Why does she look like me?”

“I’ve no idea why you resemble one another,” he said, looking through the mirror at Reinette. “Perhaps you’re distantly related? As for who she is, her name is Jeanne-Antoinette Poisson, known to her friends as Reinette. And these time windows are deliberately arranged all long her life. A spaceship from the fifty-first century stalking a woman from the eighteenth. Why?”

And that was the only reference made in that episode to their relationship. With the obvious chemistry between Dave and Lia, it was plain even to a casual observer that there was something going on between Rose and the Doctor ‘off-camera,’ but Russell was only dropping hints so far in the scripts.

There were a few other changes in ‘Girl in the Fireplace,’ such as the robots capturing Rose and Mickey because they’d mistaken her for Reinette, but the Doctor charged in to save them before Rose’s head could be cut open. He was very ‘Oncoming Storm,’ completely turned around from his earlier standpoint of calling it an act of vandalism to harm the clockwork androids. One look at Rose strapped to a table, a hand saw near her face, and he smashed the three robots to bits, not even realizing what he was doing until Rose called out to him.

He looked up from the remains, glass and cogs strewn everywhere, a look of shock making his face go slack. “What-- What have I done?” he asked, his voice high and soft. He stumbled over to Rose, his hands clumsily freeing her from the table.

Once her arms were loose, she embraced him. “It’s all right, Doctor,” she said, soothingly.

“I had to,” he said, over and over. Was he convincing her or himself? “They were going to-- I couldn’t let them--” He pulled back, fear in his gaze. Perhaps fear for what had almost happened to Rose… or maybe fear of what he was capable of, what his feelings for her would spur him to do. “I didn’t have a choice,” he said, looking into her eyes, seeking her compassion.

“It’s all right,” she said again, more firmly this time. She cupped his cheek, searching his face, needing to know that he was okay, not even questioning it, even though she had been the one bound to a table a moment ago. He nodded and she smiled, the understanding passing wordlessly between them.

“Mind getting me down, too?” asked Mickey, always the one to break up the moments between them.

Another change was the Doctor’s big rescue toward the end of the script. The androids teleported to France at the moment they felt Reinette’s ‘completion’ and the three time travelers were left on board the station, trying to figure out a way to stop them.

“We'll go in the Tardis!” said Rose.

“We can't use the Tardis,” said the Doctor, his voice harsh with frustration as his mind worked to solve the problem. “We're part of events now.”

“Well, can't we just smash through?” asked Mickey, gesturing at the mirror.

“Hyperplex this side, plate glass the other. We need a truck,” said the Doctor, ruffling his hair as he paced back and forth, as though it might shake loose an idea.

“We don't have a truck,” Mickey said, unnecessarily.

“I _know_ we don't have a truck!” the Doctor shouted at him.

His agitation was bleeding through to his companions as Rose said, “Well, we've got to try _something!”_

The Doctor stopped moving, staring into the middle distance for a moment as the pieces clicked into place of what had to be done. “No.” He looked at the mirror, disbelief on his face. There had to be another way. But there wasn’t. “Smash the glass, smash the time window. There'd be no way back.” He looked at Rose, bringing to mind another Doctor, another time, when everything depended on saving the day, but maybe losing the one person who meant the most to him. “I can’t lose you,” he said.

She looked back at him, her expression understanding, full of even more affection and trust than it had been the last time he said he could lose her. “You’ve got to,” she said. “Whatever you have to do.” She gestured at the window, where Reinette was doing her regal best to keep things under control. “She’s important. She’s part of history. Save her. I know you have to.”

The Doctor came to Rose, gripping her upper arms and staring down at her, intensely. It appeared for a moment that he might even lean down and…

“I’ll come back,” he promised. “I’ll find a way.” With that, he ran off to find the horse.

Later, as the Doctor stood at a window, staring up at the stars he was cut off from, Reinette joined him at his side. He looked down sadly at a face he dearly wished to see but wasn’t the woman before him.

“In saving me, you trapped yourself. Did you know that would happen?” she asked.

He pursed his lips. “Mmm. Pretty much.”

“Yet, still you came.” She paused. “Is it because I look like her? The woman who loves you?”

He blinked, startled. “What? Rose? She doesn’t-- We’re not--”

“You called me Rose,” she reminded him. “That day I kissed you. You were upset when you found out I wasn’t her. When I met her, I found out why.” She placed a hand to her cheek. “How distressingly odd, meeting someone who looks so very much like oneself, yet behaves so differently.”

“I know the feeling,” he muttered. “Met myself on more than one occasion.”

Reinette didn’t question his statement, perhaps knowing about the Doctor’s alien nature of changing his body from her glimpse into his head. “How will you get back to her now? Your Rose?” she asked. “There were many doors between my world and yours. Can you not use one of the others?”

He shook his head, sadly. “When the mirror broke, the shock would have severed all the links with the ship.” He sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “So, I’m stuck on the slow path, it seems. Perhaps I can grab a ride with one of my past selves. I was near Versailles in about… oh, seven years from now?” He frowned. “Though I don’t remember offering a lift to anyone in a pin-striped suit. Perhaps a future self, then. I just have to remind myself to do it…”

She laughed softly. “I think not.” She smiled at him, fondly. “It’s a pity. I think I would've enjoyed the slow path. You and I could have been… great friends.”

He shrugged. “Well, I’m not going anywhere for now.”

“Aren’t you?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow.

She held out her hand. With a grin at the irony, the Doctor took it and allowed her to lead him into another room where the old fireplace sat. Reinette had provided him with a way back to Rose, but she wouldn’t wish him luck. Not when her imaginary friend was leaving her, it seemed, for good.

The smile she gave him when he offered her a trip to a star was nothing compared to the smile Rose had on her face when he found her on the space station. He swung her up into his arms, and she pressed her face into his collar.

“You did it!” she exclaimed. “I knew you’d come back.”

“How long did you wait?” he asked, pulling back to look at her face.

“Five and a half hours.”

His eyebrows lifted high on his forehead. “That long?”

She laughed. “Well, it’s not as though we could fly the Tardis anywhere ourselves!” She shoved him in the shoulder, playfully. “Besides, I knew you’d find a way. You always do. But just in case, I’ll always wait five and a half hours before attempting anything drastic.”

He smiled. “You do that.” He took her hand and pulled her toward the fireplace. “Come on. I promised Madame de Pompadour a ride for helping me get back to you.”

Of course, they didn’t make it back in time. Reinette was already leaving Versailles in a hearse, bound for Paris. King Louis was quite shocked to see Rose, who looked as Reinette did when she was young, and dressed in her modern clothing.

When they made it back onto the Tardis, the Doctor sent them into the Vortex and Rose asked Mickey if he wouldn’t mind leaving her alone with him for a while. Slowly, she came around the console to where he was standing, staring at the dials, but not really seeing them. Without a word, he held out the sealed envelope that Louis had given him.

“Doctor--”

“I can’t,” he said, cutting her off. “One more person I’ve failed. One more goodbye I never got to say.” He looked at her, his eyes dry, but full of pain, and Rose understood that he wasn’t just mourning Reinette, he was upset about every companion he hadn’t managed to do right by. So soon after seeing Sarah Jane, it was just another reminder to him of how useless he was.

She took the envelope from him and set it on the console, then held her arms open. He fell into them, folding himself down to bury his head against her shoulder, he clung to her like a child. They didn’t speak, they didn’t have to.

In the trailer after shooting, Lia said to Dave, "She was wrong about him, you know. Reinette? The Doctor's no angel."

He smirked. "That's true, especially with what he did to those androids." He fiddled with his mug of tea. "Not lonely, either, not while he's got Rose."

She smiled at him. “Quite right. I guess Reinette didn't know him well at all, despite her look in his mind. Do you think he ever opened the envelope?”

He considered for a moment, taking a sip of his tea, then shook his head. “No. Like some of the other companions, he never got to say goodbye to her, so he wouldn’t want to hear her final words to him. Coward, he is. He couldn’t bear it.”

She nodded. “That's probably true. Poor Doctor.”

“Yes, poor me,” he said, affecting a pout, which he knew Lia couldn’t resist.

Laughing, she came over and straddled his lap, kissing him, which had been his goal.

Lia didn’t get to exact her revenge for the oral shenanigans under the French gown until they were filming ‘The Idiot’s Lantern.’ While they were seated on the blue scooter, rehearsing their lines, she snaked her hands under Dave’s anorak and unzipped the brown trousers.

His voice squeaked and she whispered in his ear, much the way he had to her, “Shh, don’t let on!”

He was far less adept than her at hiding his reaction to what they were doing, and she had to stop much too soon. He was hard for the rest of the takes, which he was certain _everyone_ noticed, due to the tightness of his suit, which made him self-conscious, which made him flub every other line.

When the director at last called for a break, he grabbed Lia’s hand and made for his trailer at once. This time, it was only a coincidence that she was wearing period clothing. The gray stockings she was wearing didn’t make it back, but wardrobe had several dozen sets.

* * *

The big moment for Rose and the Doctor came at the end of the season, with the fight against the Daleks and Cybermen. Rose made her choice, to stay with the Doctor, even though she’d never see her family again, reminding him that she’d already promised him forever.

The fear and desperation in the Doctor’s eyes as Rose moved to get the switch back in place was some of the best acting Dave felt he’d ever done. His scream as she was ripped from the lever towards the Void was heartbreaking.

Split-seconds before Rose would have fallen through, the Void closed and she hit the white wall with a sick crack, then collapsed on the ground with a thump. The Doctor ran faster than he ever had before, sliding on his knees next to her, cradling her in gentle arms as he called to her urgently.

“Rose? Rose! Can you hear me? Answer me!” His eyes filled with tears as Rose didn’t move, didn’t respond. “Rose, please,” he begged. “Please, open your eyes, do that for me, please…” His breath hitched and he clenched his teeth together in an effort not to let the tears fall. “You promised…”

He about stopped breathing as her eyelashes fluttered. Her chest rose and fell. Her hazel eyes opened, taking a moment to focus on him. Then, she smiled.

“Wotcha.”

His laugh was half a sob as he clutched her to him, wrapping his arms around her so tightly, he could have almost touched his own ribs. He said her name over and over, pressing kisses to her hair, then pulled back far enough to look down at her. Keeping one hand behind her shoulders, he cupped her face with the other.

“Rose Tyler,” he said, his voice hoarse from screaming and choked from emotion. “I love you.”

She inhaled, not quite a gasp, but then, perhaps she was only shocked to actually hear the words. Because she’d known. Of course, she had. Her eyes danced in answer to his statement.

Reaching up, her hands went around his neck and she pulled him down for their first proper kiss on-screen, where neither one of them was possessed or really someone else. She carded her fingers through his hair and stroked his ear, making Dave smile slightly against her lips. Rose wouldn’t have known it was something he liked, but of course Lia did. So lost in the moment, she’d apparently forgotten not to use that knowledge on camera, but he figured no one else would know.

The crew applauded when the director called cut and Dave helped Lia to her feet. She smiled, knowing they’d nailed it, but he was frowning.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing really, it’s just, well…” Dave pulled on his ear. “I guess I’m kind of left thinking, ‘is that it?’ The way Russell was going on about ‘something big’ for the end of the season, I thought the Doctor would propose to Rose.”

Lia giggled. “Well, saying he loves her is a big step for the Doctor,” she said, then nudged him with her shoulder. “You big nerd. You want them together as much as the fans.”

“Well, being the Doctor doesn’t stop me from being a fan, too,” he said. “I just think, if I had nearly lost forever the woman I loved, if it were me… I’d get down on one knee,” here, he knelt in front of her, his hand going to the inside pocket of the pin-striped jacket. “I’d pull out the ring I’d been carrying around for ages, trying to find the right moment, the right way to ask…” He pulled out a black velvet ring box and opened it, revealing a beautiful, three-stone diamond engagement ring.

Lia really did gasp then, finally realizing that Dave was not just expounding on his beloved  television show that he also happened to star in. Her hand went to her mouth as her eyes rapidly filled with tears. Was he really…? After all these years?

“Lia, my love,” he said, smiling around his favorite way of referring to her. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes!” she exclaimed. “Oh, of course I will, you utterly daft man!”

Beaming, he slid the ring onto her finger and stood, kissing her just as passionately as they had moments before, his heart pounding with excitement and happiness.

All around them thundered more enthusiastic applause from the crew. When he finally let go of Lia, she narrowed her eyes at everyone and pointed accusingly, saying, “You were all in on it!”

At that, a black tarp overhead was released and a hundred Tardis blue balloons dropped down on the happy couple. Dave and Lia laughed, batting them at each other, then embracing once again as the rubber orbs bounced around their legs. It was a moment they would never forget.


End file.
